


On The Rocks

by GulJeri



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5401229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GulJeri/pseuds/GulJeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak is getting paranoid about Julian spending less time with him, and more time with Chief O'Brien. It's no news that O'Brien doesn't care for Cardassians, but is he trying to get Julian away from Garak on purpose? It may not be a good idea to get on the bad side of 'plain, simple, Garak'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ugly

On The Rocks

 

"Love on the rocks, ain't no surprise. Pour me a drink, and I'll tell you my lies. Yesterday's gone now all I want is a smile." -Neil Diamond

 

-x-

 

Garak kept his eyes discretely settled onto the the willowy frame that was coming his way. He guarded it through lowered lashes as he took a long drink of his Rokassa juice, and he watched it settle down into the chair across from his, the same way it had for months on end, up until the last few.

Garak was a very observant man, but one need not be a highly trained Obsidian Order operative, (not that he was one of those), to tell that Julian had been distant lately. Their daily lunches in the Replimat had withered away until Garak was lucky if he got to share a meal with the doctor two or three times a month.

The lack was increasingly jarring, and it affected Garak more than he truly cared to let on.

He had no friends on the station but the doctor. He had enough people to despise him. His work, while he was good at it, was boring for a man possessing such intelligence and cleverness. His days were dull, full of being too cold, his eyes aching from the bright lights, his waistline slowly growing from too much sitting around, and indulging in sweets, since he had nothing else to look forward to.

He hated it, but it had been a bit more tolerable when he knew he could rely on the stability of daily lunches with the bright, handsome, young doctor.

Julian challenged him, whether he knew it or not. Their conversations were interesting, lively, full of spirited, intelligent debate. That was as vital to Garak as warmth was, and somehow the sort of conversations he had with the doctor, reminded him of home. Julian's verbal sparring was certainly on par with a Cardassians, and Garak took some pride in that.

"What's that in your lap, Garak?" Julian asked after sitting down, leaning just slightly over his tray as if trying to peek, as his eyebrows drew slightly together, forming little creases at the top of his nose.

"Oh, this?" Garak held up a rather garish sweater.

Julian actually flinched at it.

"Well, I've been doing a bit of research on Terran traditions in my spare time--which I find myself hoarding in over abundance--and I've read something about an old holiday that was commonly observed, called Christmas. That's today, at least by your calendar. It was customary for humans to give gifts to one another. This is for you," Garak said, handing the sweater over.

Julian took it from him politely and tried to stammer some thanks.

"You don't like it," Garak said, the tone of his voice dropping down an octave or two in disappointment, "but I thought that was another one of your Christmas traditions? The 'ugly' Christmas sweater? I don't pretend to understand it--but I thought you might appreciate the sentiment."

"Well... thank you, Garak," Julian said, and smiled, as he placed the sweater into his lap.

"Why don't you put it on?" Garak prodded.

Julian faltered with his cup of tarkalean tea halfway to his lips.

"Come now, doctor, you have items as disreputable as that sweater in your closet already, I've seen them. Couldn't you just... humor me? I worked my hands to the bone for days making that monstrosity!"

Julian sighed, and rolled his impossibly large, hazel, eyes upwards. Garak knew that Julian likely found him to be over-dramatic at times, but it usually worked, as Julian now seemed willing to indulge his friend.

The sweater went up and over the doctors head, long arms pushing up and out through the sleeves, and then he carefully unrolled the torso to cover the rest of his medical uniform.

"Push the reindeers' nose, my dear," Garak urged.

He hid his amused smile behind his cup of Rokassa juice as Julian pressed the red nose upon the little knitted image. To the doctor's surprise, lights lit up around the hems of the sleeves, and collar.

"Garak!" Julian yelped.

"Very festive," Garak smirked, inclining his head. He knew he was being infuriating, and he enjoyed it.

Julian sighed through his nose.

"My family probably wouldn't celebrate Christmas, to be honest. We come from Islamic roots, and Christmas was originally a celebration observed by a different religion," Julian said, "but... while I've studied Islam out of curiosity and respect for my ancestors traditions, religion of any sort isn't something I feel the need for in my own life. It's been dead on Earth for a very long time, actually. So I suppose I can wear this... ugly... Christmas sweater. Just for you."

"How touching," Garak said, "I am so very pleased."

In fact, Garak was a bit irritated that Julian didn't seem to genuinely enjoy the sweater. Noting that they'd been drifting apart for some time, Garak had began attempting to get close to the young man again by giving him small gifts here and there, or by flirting--flirting the way Terrans did it--he'd actually researched these things in an attempt to keep Julian close. Very carefully he weighed the balance of expressing his fondness for the young man, without taking it too far, but even still his efforts seemed to be useless.

Garak went quiet, and drank his Rokassa juice. Julian ate for several moments in silence.

"Garak... are you... upset with me? I never can tell with the sort of comments you make. It's so natural for you to speak in that... polite-yet-sarcastic manner, that I don't always know if you're doing it because that's just Garak, or if you're truly offended."

"My dear, you will not have to ask if I am truly offended. You will know," Garak said, dropping the edge of warmth from his voice, and suddenly sounding very cold and harsh.

"What's the matter, then?" Julian asked, then snorted, "as though you'd actually tell me."

Garak sat his cup down rather forcefully.

"What's the matter is that you don't seem as interested in my company as you once were," Garak said, "are you no longer fascinated by the thrill of being in the presence of a possible spy? Has my mystery gone so cold that you have nothing to muse over any longer? To think that you would rather spend time with him--!"

"Him?" Julian interrupted, just as Garak had began to raise his voice a get, getting carried away with his emotions.

Garak caught himself, and fussed with the napkin that was draped from his shirt collar, as he worked to reign himself in. Be calm, Elim. You have been trained to stay calm under far more duress than this.

But Garak didn't _want_ to be calm.

"Your dear friend," Garak said, his words dripping as though acidic, "Chief O'Brien."

Julian's mouth fell open a bit as he stared across the table at Garak.

"You're _jealous_ that I'm spending time with Miles?" Julian inquired, the lines at the top of his nose slightly scrunching again.

Garak huffed.

"I am _not_ jealous. I'm merely stating a very obvious fact. Tell me, doctor, what sort of intellectual stimulation do you receive from throwing tiny, sharp, projectiles at a circle for hours and letting your opponent win on purpose!"

"That's not--I don't let--Garak, you're being ridiculous!" Julian sputtered.

"I think I've lost my appetite," Garak said, removing the napkin from his collar, and tossing it onto his half-finished tray.

He got up from his seat, and stood behind it for a moment, his gray hands gripping the back of the chair.

"I'm sure you'll prefer this vacant chair to my company anyway," he said, and turned to leave their table behind.

 

-x-

 

"You'll never believe what happened at lunch today," Garak overheard Julian saying to Miles later that evening, as the two of them gathered in Quarks to play 'darts'.

Garak had found himself a darkened little corner of Quark's in which he could lurk, near enough to where he could listen in, and not be noticed. He was out of the way of the main bustle of the bar, further from the noise of the dabo tables, near enough to where he knew that the two of them played.

His Cardassian hearing, even though he was seated away from the loudest of the din, was not good enough on its own to be particularly useful for eavesdropping. But he had been a spy, after all, and he knew how to build certain devices that would aid him in spying--whether that meant professionally, or in his own private pursuits.

He kept a tiny earpiece in his desk, one of the few pieces of furniture in his bare quarters, and after he'd left lunch with Julian he'd closed his shop to go work on the device, and take care to set into motion the plan that he had for the night.

The device was now tucked away in his ear where it would not be detected, and he could easily train it to listen in to where he wanted to hear.

Garak wrapped the shadows around himself like a blanket. They were comforting to him, and a relief to his eyes after a day of straining in the over-bright station lights. The replicated fish juice he was nursing was doing a little to make him feel a bit warmer, but the taste was certainly not authentic.

Fish juice was usually a breakfast staple among Cardassians. But Garak had been yearning for something soothing, so he had ordered it despite the odd time of day for the request.

"What 'appened?" O'Brien asked, walking towards the dartboard, and prying out each little dart so he could take his turn.

"Just Garak being ridiculous," Julian said, "there's something the matter. He became angry with me for no reason--he... he seems to be rather jealous that I'm spending time with you, actually," Julian said, looking a bit rueful at the confession.

"What?" Miles was in the midst of throwing, and his dart missed completely, hitting the edge of the board and bouncing off to the floor, "well, I thought you weren't seein' much of him anymore," he grunted.

"Not as much as we used to. I suppose that's the problem," Julian said, "he thinks I don't enjoy his company any longer."

"Ya don't owe the Cardassian anything, Julian. If you don't want to have lunch with 'em, you don't have to. I think you're better off--you know the rumors that go around about him. Don't you remember that time he nearly killed me? He's a dangerous man, Julian."

Julian frowned.

The dartboard lit up signifying that Miles had hit a bullseye.

"Ha! Lookit that," Miles said, taking a brief interlude to grin about his good aim before heading back to the topic of Garak, "you best leave Garak be. Simple tailor, my arse," he scoffed.

Garak was seething in the shadows as he listened to the Chief planting ideas in Julian's head, and Julian lingering behind as Miles finished taking his turn at that banal, annoying, game. The doctor just stood there frowning, not even defending his choice to spend time with Garak, or to be his friend.

"He's all alone on this station," Julian finally said, "he needs a friend, Miles."

"Doesn't mean you're the one that needs to do it," Miles said, "it's not your job to take in every lost soul--and I'll bet his is more lost than most."

Julian's frown deepened.

"Hey!" Miles said, swiftly changing the topic as he handed over the darts for Julian's turn, "I hear Quark's got a new holoprogram in. It's a simulation climbin' Mt. Everest. We oughta try that one out, you an' me," the Chief said, nudging Julian in the side.

"Really? That sounds splendid--I'd love to try my hand at that," he said, brightening up, seeming to drop the topic of 'Garak' just that easily.

Garak was even more infuriated. Was Julian only spending time with him because he felt _sorry_ for him? How pathetic!

Garak clenched his teeth as his thoughts raged, and his anger silently bubbled.

A few more moments of watching, and seething, and the dartboard began to malfunction. Miles hit it a few times as though that might help. Certainly an advanced technique displayed by the Chief, Garak thought to himself.

He sipped his fish juice in the dark and watched Quark hurry over to the doctor and O'Brien.

"The dartboards are tied into the computer system like all the rest o'your games," O'Brien said to Quark.

"Yeah but it's strange," the Ferengi said, gesturing, "it's only the dartboards that seem to be affected."

Garak smiled deviously to himself from within the shadows.

 

-x-


	2. Stalking and Sabotage

Garak was prowling.

He was uneasy, and his mind was being unkind to him, keeping him awake at night with nasty little chants and jeers about how his only friend, the only person who could really stand to be in his presence on this damned, hellish, station, was being taken away from him.

And by Miles O'Brien!

Garak decided that he hated the man.

His mind was already going to dark places, thinking dark things, oh--why had he become so fragile? This was the greatest shame of exile, he thought, as he paced the darkness of his quarters.

If he had a tail like most reptiles did, it would have been twitching in irritation, whipping from side to side, swiping the air angrily.

As it was Cardassians had lost their tails long ago, no longer needing them to balance up two legs.

He paused at his desk, and with a roar, he shoved every last item off of it and onto the floor.

Look how he has made you come undone, Elim. You! Tain's Right Hand, quivering and hissing and losing your control over a human!

He could see Tain's face wearing a bare smile that was somehow amused, and disappointed in him, and it cut through him so deeply.

He couldn't let Miles O'Brien get away with this. What Garak needed was to be in control again-and he could control this situation. He could manipulate, oh, he could do it so well, so easily, it came to him second nature as though breathing. He could spin Julian Bashir around and around, have him eating from the palm of his hand, couldn't he? Julian was intelligent, and he was clever in his own way, but even he was no match for Garak's finely honed skills.

But Garak didn't want Julian at his side through sheer manipulation. He wanted his friend to be near because his friend wanted him.

And why would he want you? He's young, beautiful, engaged in a promising career--the complete opposite of you. Julian Bashir is well on his way in life, and you're stuck in a rut, wasting away, growing soft and unstable!

Garak swatted at the air, as though batting away and invisible foe.

He hated when this dark voice inside of him spoke up so loudly. Most of the time he was confident, or at least pretended to be, but underneath he had plenty of worries and insecurities. He had learned to ignore them. One didn't let such things show.

But there were times when they gnawed at him, and in return he grew angry that he was so weak.

Garak did not sleep.

He did not open his shop the next morning. Instead he found places to hide, he focused on disappearing into corners, crevices, and shadows, from which he could watch Miles O'Brien. From where he could stalk him. Garak could make himself disappear in plain sight. His training had given him the ability to become a ghost, a ghoul, a whisper.

For days he watched Miles O'Brien come and go, drink his tea, read through his PADD, laugh with his Julian, steal moments away into the holosuites with his Julian, and banter with his Julian about his wife, his job, and any number of mundane topics.

A time or two Julian brought up that he hadn't seen Garak for days, that he was worried, but the Chief was always able to get Julian's mind off of it eventually.

Upon the fourth day, Garak was confronted with Julian Bashir at his door.

Garak blinked several times. He felt as though he'd been in a trance for the last few days, and he had to come back in order to speak to Julian.

He remembered his easygoing tailor's smile, and he put it back into place, and he smiled.

"Good morning, doctor," he said, "what a most pleasant surprise."

From predatory hunter, to pleasant host, within the blink of an eye. This was the danger that was Elim Garak. This was the truth that Julian Bashir could not realize--that his friend could be the dark things from nightmares, but in broad daylight, and with a smile.

That little crease was forming between Julan's eyebrows. Even wearing it his doctor still looked young, and smooth.

"Garak, you've been rather scarce the last few days," Julian said, "your shop hasn't even been open. I've been... wondering... if you're alright."

Garak opened his mouth slowly, and then he laughed heartily.

"I'm just fine, doctor. Never better, in fact. A man is entitled to a few days off now and then, is he not?" Garak said, tilting his head at his young friend, leaning in a bit, and letting his tongue peek out just enough to taste the air between them.

"I... well yes--of course," Julian said, "it's just not like you. You usually enjoy keeping busy. Are you... working on some other project?"

"You're asking if I'm 'up to something'," Garak said, grinning, "I only wish I were. My life on this station isn't nearly so interesting," he said, "I've just been quite busy lately, and my hands and wrists needed a bit of a break from sewing and stitching," he said.

Julian frowned, and took one of Garak's hands in his.

Garak's heart pounded for a moment.

When was the last time his doctor had touched him? He couldn't recall, actually.

"If there's something the matter with your hands I'd like to look at them. You may have repetitive stress injuries," Julian said, turning Garak's hand over so their palms rested gently together, and with the long, delicate, fingers of his opposite hand, Julian carefully felt the structure of Garak's wrist.

Garak couldn't help but half-close his eyes as he enjoyed the humans touches.

"I'm fine," Garak said simply.

Julian seemed to have remembered something, and suddenly dropped Garak's hand, his eyes widening a bit. They were impossibly big and beautiful under normal circumstances, but when the doctor widened them even more, it seemed that Garak could get lost in their beautiful explosions of earthy colors; the irises bursts of dark green, with little touches of brown around the pupils, impossibly gorgeous and containing such depth to them--Garak shook himself mentally.

He gave Julian a small nod.

"Was that--I didn't mean to touch you, er..."

Garak realized what Julian was thinking. He must have seen the Cardassian gesture of affection, pressing palms together, and his mind was currently racing as he wondered if he'd done something obscene in his enthusiasm to help.

"It was purely professional," Garak said, keeping any true emotion from his face, though disliked the words that came from his mouth.

He longed for Julian Bashir to touch him in all manner of unprofessional ways.

"That's not really an answer to my question," Julian said, "but I suppose you're not really going to tell me if I just made some sort of outrageous proposition by stroking your hand and wrist," he said.

"I don't kiss and tell, my dear," Garak said.

Julian sighed.

"I suppose if you're well, then... I should go. Lunch today?"

The doctor's face looked hopeful with that question. Had his dear friend truly missed him? Garak stamped down on that bright flicker of hope.

It had still taken Julian several days to visit him to see if he was well. He could have very well died by then if something had been the matter. Perhaps Julian had been truly busy. After all it had been O'Brien that Garak had been stalking, not Julian, so he truly had no idea what his friend had been doing the last few days, except for the moments of Julian's life that had intersected with O'Briens.

Garak sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Lunch will be fine, my dear," Garak said.

-x-

For the next two weeks things seemed back to normal. Julian hadn't even been spending as much time with Miles in the holosuites, and though his doctor occasionally brought up that he missed this game, he didn't really seem to be so badly affected. Besides, the Chief had become increasingly busy. All sorts of odd problems had been popping up with the computer system, and he'd been swamped with work.

One day an old Cardassian program had taken over, as though it had been resurrected from the days of Terok Nor, and for the better part of the week the station was set to Cardassian temperatures, and lighting, and all human food options had been erased from the replicators. It was as though everything had been 'reset'. Of course Garak had nothing to do with the problems, not one of them, but he did so enjoy the comfortable heat and low lights while every other person on the station sweltered and suffered for several days.

Come evening, Julian and Miles settled down at Quark's bar, where Morn sat just a few stools down.

O'Brien's pale face was flushed red, his curly, dirty blond hair, soaked and stuck to his forehead and ears. His uniform shirt was off, and his black undershirt was clinging damply to his thick torso.

He downed a full glass of beer so quickly that Quark looked shocked.

Garak was sitting in his favorite dark corner, just watching, and listening.

"Ugh," Miles growled, sounding like a disgruntled grizzly bear, "the station's gonna have my head if I don't get this fixed soon--and if I've got to spend one more day shoved into a Jeffery's tube with these temperatures--ha! I might have my own head off just to get some relief!"

Julian patted his arm sympathetically.

"The heat's making everyone sluggish, tired, and cranky," he said.

"Don' talk to me 'bout cranky. Keiko banished me to the sofa last night. She claimed it was 'cause she was too damned hot to be able to sleep sharin' a bed together, but I jus' got all wound up about it, and we ended up fightin'," he said.

Garak had no sympathy for the Chief at all; not for his melting in the heat, or for the resulting marital disturbance, and not even for having to be stuffed daily into a small tube, and that was a discomfort that Garak himself could relate to.

Still, he didn't care. Miles O'Brien could have heat stroke inside a Jeffery's tube and Elim Garak would not be bothered.

"I'm sure you'll have us fixed up soon," Julian said.

He had that look on his face that he got when he was trying to be helpful, but wasn't sure how to be.

"By God, I hope so," he said, "Quark!" Miles lifted his empty mug, and the Ferengi bartender scurried over and refilled it.

"Don't rush too much, Chief," Quark said, pausing to wipe sweat from his bulbous brow, "this weather's great for business," he said, indicating the bar, which was overflowing with people in need of cold drinks to stay hydrated and ease the tension of being overheated and overcrowded, "I'm raking in the latinum hand over fist," Quark said.

"If you're the one responsible for this, some sort of stupid scheme of yours--" O'Brien raised his voice, "you're gonna be havin' my fist over top of your head to pay!"

Quark took a step back and lifted his hands placatingly.

"I have nothing to do with this! What do I know about computer systems? I'm a bartender," he said, "but can I help if I reap the benefits? I'd sure like to thank whoever's responsible for this--if there's even anyone behind it at all," the Ferengi said.

"Garak does seem rather comfortable and smug about all this, doesn't he," O'Brien groused, "he's probably the one that's done this."

"Then why isn't he locked up with Odo growling at him?" Julian asked curiously.

Miles made an irritable noise, and hunched over his ale, before lifting the mug to press the chilled glass to his forehead.

"Because we can't trace the source of the problem to anything specific," he said, "or anyone. It's just happened. Whoever's done it has covered their tracks. Only makes sense it was him though. Who else would want to live in a dark sauna?"

O'Brien did have a perfect point, but Garak had a holosuite program that he visited frequently, that mimicked a Cardassian bath house. There were plenty of large stones for basking, and saunas, and 'natural' hot pools, and all sorts of wonderful things should Garak wish to indulge. If only he were capable of making that last disconnect, where he could suspend reality, and truly enjoy himself despite in such a program, despite knowing it was all lies.

But he would do such a thing, and had, to keep O'Brien away from his doctor. The delicious temperature, and blessed dimness, was simply an added benefit.

-x-


	3. Friends and Lovers

It had taken O'Brien the better part of a week to get the station systems sorted out, and before Garak would have liked for it to be, the station was 'back to normal', or at least what the Starfleet-Bajoran team thought of as 'normal'. 

Julian was also back to spending most of his free time with O'Brien. During the time the Chief had been busy with repairs, things had been the way the once had between Garak, and Julian. Garak's plan had backfired though, because now Julian was spending more time than ever with O'Brien, as if to make up for lost time. 

At least Garak had had time to settle himself down, and while he was still upset by all of it, he felt like he'd been able to reign things in a bit, and was in more control of himself than he had been. His emotions were pushed further back, to the corners where they usually stayed, behind all the other things that he was, and wasn't, which made up the intricacy that was Elim Garak. 

But as a month passed, and then another, and the space was wide between them again, Garak began to slip once more. His dreams were becoming dark, and toxic. He had several versions of the same reoccurring dream where the theme would be that something terrible was happening to Julian, and Garak was stranded on the other side of a canyon and couldn't get to him, or he couldn't help him because their translators were broken and the Cardassian-Standard barrier couldn't be broken, or he had some sort of medical device that would save Julian's life, but he with all of his cleverness couldn't figure out how to use it--and a few other lovely ones. 

He was always so close to saving Julian, yet he never could. 

"You're moping," Julian said suddenly, upon one of the rarer days when the young man had joined him for lunch. 

"Am I?" Garak said, dismally, not bothering to deny it. 

A flicker of worry hinted at the doctor's face. 

"You are, and it's... strange. You... moping," Julian said, as though he couldn't figure out how to justify it, "whatever is the matter? I never thought I'd see you 'moping'." 

"Business is slow," Garak said, shrugging as best as he could. 

Julian pressed his lips together into a tight line before speaking again. 

"Right, so you're moping because you're bored, and Sisko wouldn't allow you to blow your shop to smithereens?" 

"Ah, so he told you. He so does enjoy raining on my parade," Garak said, tilting his head at Julian, giving him a look that was decidedly dark, and closed off, 'I don't want to talk about it'. 

Unfortunately for Garak, that look only made Julian want to talk about it even more. 

Garak sighed through his nose, and shifted his gaze from Julian's disapproving face, to the single iris that sat in a vase between them. A small smile fluttered at his lips for a moment as Garak recalled his first meeting with Julian. He had certainly had the upper hand then, and his doctor had been so nervous, and yet Garak had been able to detect that hint of eagerness and interest--the spy! Talking to me! He recalled Julian flicking his hand distractedly at the flower that had been on the table between them. 

Now when they ate together, Garak always made sure to move the menial décor to the side of the table, so they could speak with Julian become so easily distracted by pretty little things. 

He realized that he hadn't moved the flower that day. It was there between them, half blocking the view of Julian's chin, and Garak decided it was an all too appropriate metaphor. 

"Come on, Garak," Julian said, dropping his fork to his plate with a clatter that snapped Garak out of his dismal musing, "we're going to my office." 

"I don't need to go to sickbay," Garak said, becoming defensive. 

"Not as doctor and patient. I just... want a more private place where we can talk, and my office is closer than going to either of our quarters," Julian said, placing his hands on his hips. 

That stance and the look on Julian's face had a sort of finality to it. While Garak didn't want to go, instead wanted to become defensive, raise his voice, glare out from under his orbital ridges, and hiss--he stood and pushed his chair in, removed the cloth napkin that was tucked into the collar of his shirt, and dropped it onto the table. He gave a polite hand gesture. 

"After you, doctor," Garak said. 

Julian seemed thrown off that he'd gotten no argument from Garak, but he started towards sickbay, now and then glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Garak was still following him. 

Once in Julian's office, Garak watched the doctor lock the door, and immediately he became uncomfortable. 

He glanced around to each corner of the room, noting how small the office was, but he tried to play it cool by moving towards the cushy looking chair at Julian's desk, and gripping the back of it with both hands. 

"Alright, Garak. What's the matter?" Julian asked. 

"You should know by now that you'll get nothing from me _that_ easily, my dear," Garak said. 

"Of course not. It would be too much to ask for you to just talk to me like a normal human being," Julian said. 

"I would think by now you would have noticed... that I am not a human being," Garak said, "didn't the scales give you an indication?" 

Now Garak's sarcasm was out, and his shields were going up. He was beginning to feel combative. Julian didn't seem like he was in the mood for this, however. He wasn't being as gentle as he usually was, and in some ways, Garak was glad for it. 

"You know what I mean, Garak. I accept that you love to weave your lies, but sometimes, just sometimes--why couldn't you just let me in? What harm am I going to do to you? Maybe _you_ haven't noticed a few things either, but I'm not here to hurt you." 

"People have a habit of hurting even when they don't mean it," Garak countered. 

"I want to know what's gotten into you, Garak," Julian said. 

He took a step forward, but the doctor noticed how Garak cringed, so he stayed back, realizing that his friend might be edging around his issues with claustrophobia. 

Garak was glad when Julian granted him his space, or what little of it he could get in that tiny office. His fingers gripped the back of the desk chair a bit more tightly. Garak was suddenly feeling like a trapped animal, and he didn't like that at all. Julian was, after all, standing between himself and the door, and he had locked it. 

"Are you planning to keep me locked up until I talk to you?" Garak asked. 

"Of course not," Julian said, "we just needed a bit of privacy." 

"I don't see why," Garak retorted, "suddenly you're interested in a time alone... only to pry some information out of me. Well, I've been interrogated by better men and women than you, and I don't divulge information unless I am well ready." 

Julian grunted in annoyance. 

"This isn't an interrogation! You're being ridiculous, and completely immature!" 

"Oh, I'm immature! Why don't you run along and play pretend with your little friend, like frivilous children!" 

"So... that's what this is," Julian said. 

Garak was all but hissing at him now, baring his teeth in an odd, defensive way, which looking something like a grimace. 

"You're jealous that I have another friend," Julian crossed his arms over his chest, "well, I don't know how you do things on Cardassia, but in my culture, people are allowed to have as many friends as they please." 

Garak turned to look at an empty corner, not meeting Julian's gaze, focusing on his breathing, and mulling over the words and how to respond to them. Of course he knew that people were allowed friends, it wasn't something he didn't know, and he wanted Julian to be happy but... he wanted to continue to be a part of Julian's life, and the closer his dear doctor got to O'Brien, the further he got from Garak. 

"He's going to take you from me," Garak said lowly, turning to look at Julian again, "I feel you slipping away. Our friendship is suffering when you neglect it to spend every bit of free time with him. What is putting into your head, my dear? Oh, I know how the Chief _loves_ Cardassians. I'm sure he's _very_ supportive of our friendship. Tell me, my dear, how often does he complain to you about spending time with me? How many derogatory remarks does he make? I'm alone on this station," Garak said, moving closer to Julian, and gripping his wrist firmly, "can you blame for wanting to hold onto my... only... companion?" 

And now the anger, the defensiveness, was gone and there was pain in Garak's eyes, and a deep loneliness. They weren't the tailors' eyes, they were Garak's eyes, more Garak than Julian probably wanted to see. 

"I'm... sorry..." Julian said, taking both of Garak's hands in his, "I don't want you to feel alone, Garak. But I won't give up my friends, or my hobbies. I... suppose I haven't been balancing things very well," Julian said. 

"Don't you... want to spend time with me anymore?" 

Garak wasn't looking at Julian again. He was looking down, and he spoke so quietly that Julian wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't had augmented hearing. Garak had almost choked on the words--it had been terribly difficult to say them. Garak never liked to be that transparent. He would rather get angry and snappish rather than truly revealing that he was hurting about something. 

"I do," Julian said, "it's... it's just that..." 

 _It's just that..._  

The words twisted in Garak's chest as he waited for Julian to continue. It seemed like he never would, as he gripped Garak's hands, and stood there with his mouth half opened, trying to figure out words. 

"I... we... I know that you want... more from me than... than I..." 

"Julian," Garak said, using his doctor's first name, a thing that rarely happened, "yes, I would love for... our relationship to grow... but your friendship means... so much to me. If that's as far as it ever goes, my life will have been better for it. I... treasure the moments I get to spend with you." 

Julian seemed almost tearful at Garak's words. 

"I feel terrible that I can't..." Julian began, "I care for you very much, Elim. I've thought over all of this again, and again, trying to figure out how we could move forward. I just can't do it. I've been in relationships with other men before. During college I had more homosexual partners than heterosexual. But I've always been with men who were... my age. When I think of having a relationship with you, a man who is much more... mature... than I am... it frightens me," Julian admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper upon the last few words. 

Garak tilted his head at the young man. For all the reasons that Julian Bashir might have to be frightened of him, it was his age that did it? He didn't understand. 

"Why does that frighten you?" Garak asked, keeping ahold of Julian's hands. 

Julian closed his eyes, long, dark, lashes resting against his skin. He shook his head. 

"I'm sorry, Garak, but I can't talk about it." 

"Now whose keeping secrets..." Garak said. 

Their conversation ended there, however. Garak might want to know, but he decided to respect Julian's privacy here, so they parted ways. 

-x- 

Julian was feeling abysmal the rest of the day, and as soon as work let out, he went straight to Quarks and slouched himself down onto an empty stool a few seats down from Morn. 

"Why the long face, doc?" Quark asked, as he came over to place a glass onto the bar, and wait for Bashir to tell him what he'd like to drink, "what can I get for you? Maybe a Tamarian Frost? Those have been popular today," Quark said. 

Julian shook his head. 

"Something stronger, and on the rocks." 

"Bottle of kanar?" Quark asked, lifting a bottle from behind the bar. 

"Non-Cardassian, please." 

"Hm... Yridian brandy," Quark said, "just got a large shipment." 

He pulled out another bottle, paused to throw some ice cubes into Julian's glass, then and poured a bit of the liquid over them. 

Quark opened his mouth to try and talk to the doctor again, but closed it when he noted Keiko O'Brien storming in. Had Quark not had customers to serve, he would have hid behind his counter right then. Keiko O'Brien was not one to mess with when she was in a mood. 

"Hi, Keiko," Quark said, doing his best to seem polite and not step on any toes. 

Julian was very briefly amused at the Ferengi's attempt. 

"Hi, Quark," Keiko said. 

"Can I get something for you, Ms. O'Brien? I've got sake programmed into the replicator for ensign--" 

"I don't like sake, actually," Keiko said, "how about a tall Andorian ale," she said. 

"That stuff's terrible, but suit yourself," Quark said. 

Julian raised his eyebrows. Keiko O'Brien, sitting at Quark's bar, drinking a tall Andorian ale? It seemed out of sorts for her. 

"Don't worry, Julian," Keiko said, pausing to take a sip once Quark slid her drink over. Judging by the grimace she made, it was vile, "Molly's in bed, and I don't do this regularly. Miles is just... driving me mad." 

"I know the feeling," Julian said, tipping his glass up and letting the burning brandy slide warmly down his throat. 

He didn't drink often either for that matter. 

"I doubt that," Keiko said, "sometimes I think that you and Miles make a better couple than we do," she chuckled. 

Julian almost choked. 

"I... I wouldn't say that... at all." 

"You two don't fight the way we do. He's just so hard-headed." 

"Mm... no, it's Garak and I who... get out of sorts with one another." 

Keiko lifted an eyebrow. 

"Believe it or not, that's what Miles and I were arguing about. You and Garak. I can't belief that Miles would stick his nose into your relationship--" 

"It's... it's not a relationship, really," Julian coughed. 

"--with Garak," Keiko said. 

She paused for another long drink while Julian shifted uncomfortably. 

"What did Miles... er... why were you two arguing about... Garak and I?" 

What a strange sentence to come out of his mouth. 

"Mm, he doesn't like that you spend so much time with Garak. You know how Miles is about Cardassians. I thought he'd changed his mind a bit after Rugal. But he's being as pigheaded as ever. He thinks Garak's dangerous, and that you shouldn't be getting involved with him. He wouldn't like to know that I've been thinking about taking one of my plants to Garak to have a look at. It's native to Cardassia, actually, and I've heard he was once a gardener... but my point was that you're a grown man, and you're free to chose your own friends or lovers--" 

"Lo-lovers?" Julian squeaked, "wait a minute, Miles thinks we're--" 

Keiko waved a hand. 

"It's fine, Julian. Garak's an attractive man..." 

Julian was ready to go back to his quarters and hide. His ears were probably red from embarrassment. 

"We're not... we're friends, Keiko," Julian said, "of course as you said, not that there'd be anything wrong with... you know... I don't know why Miles or Garak feel the need to play tug-of-war with me anyway," he said. 

"What do you mean?" Keiko asked. 

"Garak's not so fond of Miles either," Julian said. 

"They're fighting over you?" Keiko asked, her voice pitching up high, as though she couldn't believe this, "they're both giant children, aren't they." 

She called Quark over, and had him refill Julian's glass. 

"What will do with them," Keiko, Julian asked her, after she had finished most of her ale, and he'd had a few more shots of brandy. Now he was angry with Miles, and made note to have word with him later.

"Love them, and beat them in the head when they act like idiots," she suggested. 

"I don't think that would work," Julian said, "Cardassians have all those damn ridges, I'd just hurt myself trying." 

"Maybe you and I could start a holoprogram--boxing. We'll toughen our hands up," Keiko said. 

"You learning boxing? Miles would have reason to fear for his life." 

Keiko shoved Julian playfully. 

"It's a good thing he didn't marry a Klingon," Keiko said. 

-x- 

 

 


	4. All The Reasons Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tbh not sure how I feel about this chapter but this is what happened.

_"I feel terrible that I can't..." Julian began, "I care for you very much, Elim. I've thought over all of this again, and again, trying to figure out how we could move forward. I just can't do it. I've always been with men who were... my age. When I think of having a relationship with you, a man who is much more... mature... than I am... it frightens me.”_

_"Why does that frighten you?"_

_"I'm sorry, Garak, but I can't talk about it."_

_"Now whose keeping secrets..."_

Julian replayed that conversation in his mind as he lay in bed, feeling miserable, and staring at the darkness of his ceiling. He had spent most of his life keeping an enormous secret, the fact that he was genetically enhanced, and though he’d gotten used to it… it had never sat right with him. Nor did keeping this secret from Garak, but how to tell him?

It was a strange truth to Julian, and even he didn’t really understand why this was the barrier between himself and Garak—or being able to date any ‘older’ man.

It was all down to his father. He remembered the way his father had looked at him when he’d been young—before the DNA resequencing. He’d looked upon his son with pity, he’d looked up on his son with the eyes of a man expecting so much more, and being let down by the lack of progress he saw day after day.

Julian had been a happy boy. He had been well behaved so long as his routines were not interrupted. So long as his senses were not overwhelmed. But his parents didn’t seem to understand that. For a very long time he couldn’t explain to them at all, because he hadn’t even started to speak until he was four years old. When he had finally spoken, it was in complete sentences, with long words, words that weren’t typically found in a four-year-old’s vocabulary. His father had been delighted. He had taken this to mean that his child truly was spectacular. A child who spoke like that _must_ be brilliant.

But Julian—Jules—had just continued to struggle.

His mother was patient, even on the bad days, but his father had trouble coping. When Jules complain and cried about having to wear ‘that’ sweater, his father said it was whining, and then when Jules clawed his skin to the point of drawing blood because he couldn’t stand the feel of the material against his skin, his father was angry at him for ‘throwing a fit’. When he couldn’t stand the smell, the taste, or the texture, of so many different types of food, his father became angry that was a ‘picky eater’ and that he needed to be grateful for what he was given. Jules had been a very confused child… he wasn’t trying to be bad, but his father seemed to think he was acting up whenever anything bothered him. He couldn’t help it.

His father had once tried to take him to the children’s museum, suggested by his mother, that they spend the day together. Julian had an amazing memory, especially long-term, and he remembered many of these things quite clearly, along with the emotions he felt upon each time he let his father down, or upset him, even though he’d never meant to.

The Children’s Museum had been a horror of too many things going on. There had been so many sounds, so loud, all of them blending together and almost physically assaulting Jules’s senses. It had been crowded. Other kids bumped into him and he had tried to bite them, because it made him feel uncomfortable and afraid to have strange people so close to them.

His father tried to engage him in games and exhibits. Sometimes it helped. He could remember zooming in like a little camera and focusing on one part that interested him—the toe bone of the dinosaur model, the way it felt both smooth, and oddly ridgy beneath his fingers. He could recall how his father tried to keep talking about the dinosaur, tried to get him to pay attention to the way the animatronic head moved (it was a very old model, the museum didn’t have the funds for holographic displays). But Jules had been focused on the one little bit that occupied him. Again, his father had become angry, chastising him for not paying attention, for ignoring him. His father had taken him to the planetarium, but again Jules hadn’t paid any attention. He hadn’t even looked up at the stars and space displayed on the ceiling of the planetarium. Instead he had been engrossed with a loose thread on the upholstery of the chair he’d been sitting in.

He had spent the entire hour focused on that string.

When they’d arrived home, his father had been completely upset by the day, and Jules had hidden behind the sofa while he listened to the disappointment in his father’s voice as he told his mother about how hopeless the child was.

His father had been so disappointed in his child that he had convinced his mother to go along with his idea; his idea to convert Jules into someone acceptable. Someone who wasn’t _him_ anymore.

The thought of being with an older man reminded him of his father. It made him fear that he wouldn’t be able to please his mate—that he wouldn’t be able to please Garak—that he would let him down again, and again, and again, no matter how hard he tried, and that all the unacceptable things that a long term partner would eventually discover in the other, would just be too much. His oddities, his social awkwardness, his intense interests, all of the things he tried to kept hidden as much as he could would come out and Garak would grow to hate him as much as his father had grown to hate Jules.

Julian wasn’t sure he could handle that sort of rejection again.

Even as he thought about it, as all of the thoughts and feelings wound around his insides in bundles of panic, he realized that he was stimming, rubbing his thumbs at his blanket over and over in tiny circles. His blanket had holes in it from doing that at night. He did his best to refrain from any ‘odd’ behaviors no matter how much he felt the need or want to do them, so when he was alone in his quarters at night, he rubbed holes into his blanket in relief that he could finally unleash his ‘weird’ urges—or he did it when he was stressed and lying awake, as he was now.

He’d spent a very, very, long time learning how to shift his self-harming stim-behaviors into other things that didn’t involve pulling his hair, scratching his skin, or biting his nails until his fingers were dripping with blood. These days all of his stims were harmless, and secret.

But Garak would know, eventually, if he allowed him that close.

_And he will reject you._

 

Garak was feeling rather downtrodden in the following weeks.

His doctor was avoiding him yet again.

Garak had been watching Julian, and Miles, very closely, but Julian hadn’t even been spending a whole lot of time with the Chief either. He seemed to be retreating into a shell. When Garak saw him here, or there, when Julian thought no one was watching him, Garak was sure that Julian looked miserable.

Garak noticed his young friend being tugged along by Jadzia one night, and Julian looked more uncomfortable than ever. Jadzia had taken him by the hand, and Julian had grimaced about it, as though he didn’t wish to be touched. He looked like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

Garak didn’t hear their conversation but he took in their body language.

Julian’s shoulders were slumped. Sometimes he would begin to rock in his chair, then suddenly take notice that he was doing it, and he would tense up as though it took him great effort to stay still. His eyes were everywhere but Jadzia’s face, as though he just couldn’t keep eye contact with her. He bit his nails, then stopped himself from doing so in the same way he’d tended to the odd ‘rocking’. The poor doctor seemed overwhelmed.

He’d never seen Julian quite like this. His friend had even grown over the time they’d known each other, to become quite a bit less awkward than when they’d first met. But seeing him this way, it was like seeing someone else, and it bothered Garak that something was upsetting the young man so.

Normally Garak wouldn’t be bothered by another persons’ plight, but this was Julian Bashir, someone who had wormed his way (irritatingly so) past many of Garak’s walls and defenses. He did truly care about his friend.

Garak slithered out of the corner he’d been hiding in, and made his way towards the table.

His instinct was to touch Julian’s shoulder, but his observations told him to keep his hands to himself. It was clear to him that, for some reason, the doctor was not in the mood to be touched just then.

Upon seeing Garak, Julian’s eyes went wide.

“Garak!”

“Ah, you remember me,” Garak said.

Rather than looking amused, Julian appeared to be confused by that.

“O-of course I remember you, Garak,” he said.

“Oh, my dear, it was only a joke,” Garak said.

“Oh! Oh—of course. Yes. A joke,” Julian said.

Garak observed Julian doing his best not to bite his nails, and the way his eyes continued to dart, refusing to fall neither on Garak’s face, nor Jadzia’s.

“I—it’s been a long day. I’d better go,” Julian said, rising from his chair, and nearly knocking it over.

“Why don’t I walk you to your quarters, my dear?” Garak asked, gesturing with his arms to the direction of the turbolift

“No, that’s quite alright, Garak. Please,” Julian said.

“Well, I didn’t intend to interrupt--” Garak looked towards Jadzia, then to Julian again.

“It’s fine—I’ve got a headache—too noisy,” Julian said, and offered a quick good night to Jadzia, and Garak, before heading off.

“Don’t feel bad,” Jadzia said, leaning across the table to pluck a bit of food off the plate that Julian had left behind, “he’s avoiding everyone lately.”

 

 

.

 


	5. The Breakfast Club

In Garak’s dream he had captured O’Brien and despite Garak’s claustrophobia, he’d dragged the man into a Jefferies’ tube. There they sat with Garak’s arm securely around O’Brien’s throat, and a phaser to his head. The Chief’s curly hair brushed Garak’s chin and the scent of sweaty fear filled his nose and tasted slick and heady on his tongue when he sipped at the air in the small space. Garak’s predatory side was coming out and the human was warm against him, and alive, and pulsing with blood that was full of judgment Federation self-righteousness. How dare O’Brien have any say so on whom Julian should chose to have a relationship with?

Garak tilted his head so his lips were near to O’Brien’s ear and he hissed lowly. It was a threatening sound that grew lower and lower until it became a growl--the sound of a crocodile submerged in muddy water and rumbling threateningly at something upon the bank. Garak contained just as much strength, and while he didn’t have rows of savage teeth, he felt like he could be very happy sinking his dull humanoid arrangement into O’Brien’s pale pink flesh. 

He felt strange as though he was being influenced once again by some outside chemical. His body was tensed, his endorphins singing, and his head was clear and hyper focused on the moment which seemed to stand still before him and in his complete control. 

“What shall I do with you now, tinkerer?” Garak hiss-growled, “oh, I have plenty of ideas. What’s the matter? Don’t you enjoy me interfering in your day? Pulling your life apart at the seams? But you’ve certainly interfered with mine. You’ve poisoned my dear doctor against me. You opened his mouth, tilted his chin, and poured your poison down that long, beautiful, throat. It’sssss all… your… fault…”

O’Brien began to beg as Garak pressed the tip of the phaser harder against his temple. He spoke of Molly, and Yoshi, how his children couldn’t grow up with a father. Surely, O’Brien said, you could understand that. Family is important to Cardassians. Oh, but now the human asked for understanding. Understanding when none had been given to Garak--and he presumed to know what was important to a Cardassian. But how would he know when he’d never taken the time ask one? Miles O’Brien obviously didn’t care about what was important to someone else, or else he would have supported his friend who was in love with the tailor, the former spy, the gardener, the Cardassian--whatever he was. 

“Humans only find important those things which directly affect them,” Garak said. 

He squeezed the trigger.

Garak woke up with a start. The phaser light quickly disappeared as his eyes adjusted to the low light in his room. The dream had been so real that he was certain for several moments that he could still feel the pressure of O’Brien’s body against his, and smell the fear on him like a sickness.

Garak rolled out of bed. It was the middle of the night but the dream had him shaken. He stripped out of his night clothes without bothering to fold them and padded naked to the bathroom. He turned the sonic shower on, wishing not for the first time that it had a setting for heat, and stood under it. He knew that it wasn’t really possible for him to smell O’Brien on him, but he still had the urge to get the scent of the dream off of his body anyway. 

Garak knew himself, including his weak spots and downfalls. He had been behaving irrationally as of late but he thought he was getting a handle on it. There was no reason for him to become as extreme as he had in his dream--but then why focus on it at all? It was only a dream. It simply didn’t help that Cardassian minds had a knack for so vividly remembering detail, even when the detail was a dreamscape with overtones only half-set in reality. 

For a brief moment he wondered if this actually proved O’Brien right--that he was too dangerous. But Garak wouldn’t really take a phaser to O’Brien’s head in real life. If he was going to do it at all he would find a more discrete way.

But he wasn’t going to do it. He had no fond feelings for the man but killing him would not solve the problem and after all O’Brien was Julian’s friend. So it wouldn’t do to off him in any way. Besides Garak had a new bit of information.

Julian hadn’t told him everything when they’d last spoke but his words and his demeanor certainly told Garak that there was more going on to pull them apart than just O’Brien’s interference. What Garak needed to do was to find out what that ‘other thing’ was, and figure out a way to resolve it. If not for their relationship to mend, at least for Julian’s peace of mind. That thought made Garak smile just a bit. It wasn’t often that he took into consideration another person’s peace of mind. Cardassians just didn’t often prioritize things in such a manner.

But Julian Bashir was special.

Garak stood under the shower a while longer just thinking. When he was finished he dressed himself for the day and puttered around his quarters until it was a reasonable time to venture out to the Promenade. 

He stopped for breakfast at Quark’s and caught Rom having his breakfast as he got off from his night shift with the stations sanitation crew. This morning it was giant stack of chocolate chip pancakes topped with a sickening amount of whipped cream and syrup. Rom seemed to be enjoying it though Quark warned him he probably wouldn’t sleep for days after consuming so much sugar.

Garak simply had a cup of replicated fish juice. Sometimes he took it spicy but this morning he just wanted it plain and was enjoying the warmth and familiarity of it, even though the replicated version could never compare to fresh. 

“In some fish juice recipes the bones are cooked until they’re so soft they just melt in your mouth, and they’re left in. Once you finish your juice you have these tasty little morsels at the bottom of your cup or bowl,” Garak said.

“Fish juice sounds vile,” Quark said, curling his lip, and leaning his elbow on the bar, “and it smells even worse. My whole bar is going to smell like fish until noon at least.”

Garak gave Quark a small smile and inclined his head in a nod as if to say ‘you’re welcome’. 

“Buuuuut it’s just a difference in culture, brother,” Rom said, peeking over his stack of pancakes. He paused to lick a mustache of whipped cream off his upper lip, “we drink beetle juice, and other kinds of bug juices too. Garak would probably find that vile.”

“On the contrary,” Garak said, “insects are often incorporated into Cardassian cuisine. I prefer the ones that crunch.”

“Can’t argue with you there!” Quark said, “there’s nothing like a nice crunchy bug. I love when the little bits of exoskeleton get stuck between your teeth.”

“Chocolate chiiiiips,” Rom said.

“Disgusting,” Quark muttered.

“You know, Quark, you’re a man who seems to know things around this station…” Garak began.

Quark adopted an attitude of innocence.

“Me? What would I know. I’m just a plain, simple, bar tender.”

Garak’s eyes sparkled at him.

“But of course,” Garak said, “but even plain, simple, bar tenders know things. Nothing too important--just bits of conversations you overhear,” Garak tapped at one of his own ears to indicate, “especially with those.”

“They are pretty great lobes, aren’t they?” Quark said.

“The largest lobes I’ve ever seen on a Ferengi,” Garak said playing to Quark’s ego.

“You should see the Nagus’ lobes--” Rom interjected.

“Shut up! We’re talking about my lobes. And I… might have heard something. What do you want to know?” Quark leaned in closer to Garak so they could conspire more privately without Rom interrupting.

“Has Doctor Bashir ever spoken… about me?” Garak asked.

“You? Sure he has. I’d need another hand to count all the times he’s been down here pining--”

“Pining?” 

“Pining,” Quark said, “he likes to think he can hold his drink but he gets sappy when he’s had just a little too much. Hu-mons are strange when the drink. But I can’t complain. They give me more money that way.”

“Tell me more about this ‘pining’,” Garak said, tilting his head expectantly.

“Well, it’s clear he’s in love with you. You know how I get when I talk talk about Jadzia? Or Grilka. Or… Natima…” Quark said, and then sighed.

“Has he ever spoken of any… reservations?” Garak prodded.

“Not until recently. Last night, actually, he was down here until closing which isn’t like him. I didn’t think this was related to you but now that you mention it… he asked if I could ever be with someone who reminded me of one of my parents. Have you seen my Moogie?” Quark shuddered, “he said he couldn’t be with someone who reminded him of his father.”

Garak pressed his lips together in a tight line at that. He didn’t know what it meant, but it was the lead he’d been looking for. 

“How would you remind him of his father? You’re a Cardassian. You’re not even a father yourself. I wouldn’t worry about it. Hu-mons say all sorts of strange things in my bar.”

“Broooother…”

Quark turned to Rom and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What is it now, Rom? I certainly couldn’t be with anyone who reminded me of you,” Quark said.

“Constable Odo isn’t anything like me,” Rom said.

“Rom!” Quark exclaimed.

Rom slouched on his stool a bit and looked sheepish.

“Sorry, brother, I just remembered about this drink the Hu-mons were talking about. We should find the recipe and code it into the replicator. It’s called ‘Tang’,” Rom said.

“You should stop eating this Hu-mon swill, and go to bed,” Quark said, taking Rom’s half finished plate of chocolate chip pancakes away from him.

“Well I wouldn’t date anyone who reminded me of you either!” Rom said, “taking away my food is a deal breaker!” Rom got off of his stool and stomped away.

“I think I’ll have another fish juice,” Garak said, sliding his empty cup towards Quark.

He needed to think, and it was still early enough that bar was very empty.


End file.
